


Love Killer

by nishiki



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Dealing With Loss, Ed kills Isabella, First Kiss, First Time, Isabella's death, M/M, Minor Character Death, Murder, Nygmobblepot, One Shot, Psycho Edward, Riddler - Freeform, Schizophrenia, Set in Season 3, Shameless Smut, Smut, Top Edward, bottom Oswald, mayor Oswald, schizophrenic Edward
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 06:37:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14255109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nishiki/pseuds/nishiki
Summary: Isabella's death had been inevitable from the start. The real question had always been through whose hands she was going to perish.





	Love Killer

He didn't know what was worse, the fact that Oswald had been right in the end or that the love of his life lay dead on the ground in front of him. Her trust in him had been so great, her trust in this good heart she seemed to have seen buried deep inside of this rotten body. Isabella had seen him like no one had seen him in a long time … possibly ever. All his life, people had looked at him as a freak, as a weirdo that they could beat down on. First, his father, then the kids in school and at last at his workplace. All his life, everyone had just beaten down on him and that only stopped after Kristen’s death, after the change he had gone through, after his reawakening, after being reborn through her death. Suddenly he had been a different person. Strong. Ruthless. He hadn't had taken shit anymore form anyone and he had even achieved his greatest success in getting Jim Gordon behind bars. And he had gladly embraced this new, darker Ed. He had felt alive for the first time ever as these two halves of his mind had finally been united. And then Isabella had stepped into his life, a representation of everything he could have had with Kristen, a representation of the normal, peaceful life he had always wanted. A white picket fence in the suburbs with his wife and a couple of children.

He had fallen in love with this idea of normalcy, of not being a freak for once in his life. And then there had been Oswald. Oswald, who had hugged him with so much passion and joy to see him alive after not coming home for the entire night. Oswald, who had looked at him with those piercing blue eyes as if his entire world revolted around Edward. Oswald, who had been unable to contain himself and his feelings for his best friend any longer as they had bubbled straight out of him at the moment they had been reunited. He wouldn't lie, his confession hadn't been a surprise to Edward. Not really, anyway. He had seen the way Oswald had looked at him in those weeks leading up to this very moment and it seemed like fate that he had met Isabella just hours before Oswald had told him that he loved him because fate was a bitch like that.

In that moment, all he had been able to do was to reject his friend and tell him that he had fallen in love with Isabella only to see Oswald’s heart shatter into a million tiny pieces right before his very eyes, giving him even a sick sense of power that he was holding over Oswald, pleasure even that he was able to hurt another human being, a man with so much power as Oswald, so deeply. But the thought of what might have happened had he not met Isabella the day he had, had never left him ever since. Would he have reacted the same way to Oswald or would he have embraced his love instead?

He would never be able to know and now Isabella was dead.

He remembered the angry words that the Penguin, not Oswald, had spat at him during their fight last time they had seen each other. It seemed like a million years ago now. He remembered Oswald in tears at the very thought that the one person he loved would not reciprocate his feelings. He remembered how he had been lashing out left and right because that was the only way he knew how to deal with his heartbreak. _We both know you will kill her like you did the other!_ That were the words circling through his brain even now, repeating over and over and over like an endless loop he was stuck in and could impossibly get out of. Isabella was dead. She was dead by his hands.

They had argued and he didn't even know about what anymore. He could remember that she had yelled at him for the first time ever in their relationship and suddenly his hands had been wrapped around her thin neck and while he had squeezed all he had heard was his mother's shrill voice screaming at him after his father had beaten the crap out of _him_ once more, telling him how much of a failure he was, how big of a disappointment. _Why do you always have to make him angry, Ed?_

She had struggled. Isabella had struggled oh so very much like his mother had struggled as his father had killed her, like Kristen had struggled, scratching at his arms as the realization struck her that, after all, he was still a monster and that, no, she had not been able to change him like she promised him she would.

And, oh … It had felt good to see the light draining from her eyes. It had felt good to feel her struggling died with each second. It had felt good to feel her pulse under his fingers weaken until there was nothing left before the other, weaker part of his mind could take over again. As he had dropped Isabella to the floor, she had already been dead and he had watched himself repeating the same motions he did with Kristen in some pathetic attempt of repairing the damage he had done. He had stood there and watched how he had gotten stuck in this vicious cycle of endless repetition, as he had held her in his arms, weeping into her blonde hair.

It was tedious and it was tiring to see his weaker self like this and to know that he would have to clean up after him again like he did last time. But it had felt so good to wrap his hands around her thin neck. It had felt so good to squeeze the life out of her without much force, to begin with. He had felt powerful and strong and suddenly he wasn't a freak any longer, he wasn't anyone who would get beaten down anymore by weaker and stupider people. He would not walk through the precinct anymore and have himself be the target of the mockery of those idiots in uniform. He was Ed Nygma and Ed Nygma was a force to be reckoned with but she had not seen that. She had seen Ed, nice, riddle-loving, weird Ed and a white-picket fence and children playing in her back garden. She had not seen him. She had not seen the real Ed. And it had felt so good to kill her. It had felt so good to get rid of this fantasy. It had felt so good to make her see the real Edward Nygma. It had felt so good to finally be free again without the need to hide himself away behind compliments and a pleasant smile over a cup of tea in the morning.

When he left the house, he left behind the weaker version of himself again, tucked neatly away in a corner of his mind, like Isabella was neatly tucked away in the big suitcase she had prepared for a trip just out of state.

His drive through town with her corpse in the trunk of his car was a blur as the rainstorm that the weatherman had warned the good people of Gotham about hit the city with thunder and lightning in its tow. Street signs and lights were passing by him like a whirlwind of colors and shouted orders from his past, like his father had shouted at him whenever he had done something wrong in his eyes, like his mother had screamed at him when he came to her for help, like Isabella had screamed at him in anger, like Kristen had screamed at him in disgust over his crimes. And he thought about how Oswald had lashed out on him, how Oswald had yelled at him, how he had warned him about all of this as if he had seen it play out right in front of his eyes long before Edward had been able to acknowledge the truth.

Oswald knew him. He knew him better than Ed knew himself. Oswald saw him. He saw the real him, saw the Edward that no one else ever seemed to see. Oswald saw his strength and his ruthlessness, his intelligence and his anger and Oswald never shied away from it all, never screamed at him because he saw his real self. He had embraced it right from the beginning. He had thrown himself at Edward and shown him his own weakness, pouring out his heart right in front of Ed and had embraced him with all his flaws and with his inner darkness. Never had Oswald tried to change him in any way. Never had Oswald tried to cure him in any way. Never had Oswald acknowledged that there might be a reason for a cure or a change. No. He had seen Ed for who he truly was and he had seen what he could become. No white-picket fence, no children playing in the back garden, no wife and no suburbian home, just blood and violence and this feeling of immense power.

He let himself in as he reached the mansion. He didn't care for Zsasz trying to keep him out of the office as he walked down the hallway and towards the closed wooden doors keeping him from Oswald with long determined strides These days, Zsasz was an ever-present figure in Oswald’s ancestral home. Too big was Oswald’s fear of possible attacks from the organized crimes, maybe even from his best friend and most trusted advisor. He even ignored the sound of a gun being drawn at him as he flung the doors to Oswald’s office open with one powerful push against the wood and walked straight into Oswald’s inner sanctum. He didn't listen to Oswald yelling at him to get out again or to the threats of murder from Zsasz as he walked right up to Oswald and pulled him from his chair behind his overflowing desk. Zsasz wasn't even fast enough as Edward pushed his friend against the nearest wall to his desk and pressed his lips against the protesting mouth because this was all he could think about right now. This was all he had been able to think about for the last couple of hours ever since Isabella’s life had ended so very abruptly.

He could still feel Isabella’s pulse dying beneath his fingertips as he grabbed Oswald’s jaw forcefully, willing to leave marks on that lily-white skin. He could still feel her struggling against him as he had leaned into her with all his weight. He could still hear her ragged pleas and her desperate breathing as she had realized what trouble she was in and that he could not be bargained with for once. He could still feel her slump against him in death and he still felt the adrenaline rushing through his body, the heat making him unable to think straight. He was reduced to nothing more than a monster as his body pressed into Oswald’s, trapping him against the wall, almost forcing his mouth open with his fingers digging into his jaw muscles.

The kiss wasn't gentle and there was no denying that. It wasn't even a kiss. This was him claiming Oswald as his own. This was him accepting who he truly was. This was the monster taking over and the monster would just take what it wanted, it wouldn't take no for an answer, it wouldn't accept to be pushed away by Oswald, or beaten down or screamed at ever again. Oswald’s fingers almost desperately clung to his shoulders by now, digging into his muscles as his mouth was ravaged by his most trusted advisor, but he was not struggling like the others did. This was no struggle, this was no fight, this was not about survival or death. It was Oswald embracing the monster, Oswald accepting the monster.

And it was Victor Zsasz who seemed oh so unable to assess the situation properly as he seemed to think it necessary to break them up. »Boss?« Even if he would not have been too occupied with Oswald, he wouldn't have heard Victor come closer before he heard how a gun was being cocked right next to his left ear. Only then did Edward pull away from Oswald, taking a step back with the gun never leaving him, of course. There was no question that Zsasz would blow his brains out would Oswald tell him to. Victor, though hard to read at times, had never been too fond of him, always watched him with weary eyes like a hawk.  

»Leave us, Victor.« Oswald’s demand was silent, almost too silent over the crackling of the fire coming from the fireplace. That was one thing he loved about this house. There was a fireplace in almost every room and someone took care that there was always a nice fire going in those fireplaces around the house. Then again, this place did not have modern heating.

»You said not to let anyone in.« Victor remarked as he was unable to tell when not to get on Oswald’s nerves with impertinence.

»Leave us, now!« Oh, he loved it when Oswald would lose his temper so quickly and shout at his employees. He loved the power Oswald had even above a man like Victor Zsasz, who was feared by many in the underworld and probably one of the most deadly assassins in Gotham. He had always been drawn in by Oswald's power and intelligence and now those were the traits that were the most irresistible about him and sending shockwaves of heat through his body. Was it messed up to feel this way so shortly after he had killed the woman he loved? Possibly. But the monster in him could only see Oswald right now, panting from either the kiss or his shouting at Victor, before those piercing blue eyes came right back to him, staring at Edward in a mix of anger and confusion and even hurt, as it seemed at first glance.

»What the hell do you think you’re doing?« Oswald growled as the door clicked shut behind Victor, the fire crackling in the old stone fireplace their only witness in this ancient house full of ghosts and unnatural shadows.

»I have Isabella lying in the trunk of my car.« The words left his mouth with such ease as if he was only talking about the weather as if this was serving as a proper explanation for the man he loved right now. He wondered if he had been able to see his true feelings for Oswald, had he never met Isabella. Kristen had shown him his true self and for this, he would always be in her debt and Isabella had shown him that he couldn't hide who he truly was, including who he truly loved. All his life he had wanted to be normal and Isabella had promised him that and yet all his life he had known that he could never be normal because that was not who he was and Oswald saw this, Oswald understood this. Even now as Oswald looked at him in anger, he saw Edward, the real him and not just the facade he was putting up for everyone else.

»What do you mean … What … You have Isabella in the trunk of your car?« Oswald was trying to make sense of things that were not supposed to make sense again, but that was only one of his many flaws and Edward embraced them all.

»She’s dead!« He exclaimed as laughter was leaving his mouth. He probably sounded crazy - even to Oswald. »I killed her! It was just like you said it would be! We both knew I would do it sooner or later and I did! I just wrapped my hands around her throat and squeezed until she stopped fighting and now she is in my trunk.« Edward ended with a gleeful grin as he tilted his head to one side ever so slightly.

»Edward.« Oh, not this voice. His entire demeanor changed as he now approached him with his hands raised, careful like he was approaching a rabid dog. »Edward, you are having an episode.«

»I'm not having an episode or a breakdown or anything!« He laughed and suddenly, before he knew it himself even, grabbed Oswald’s right hand to pull him against himself, making the other man stumble on his bad leg and almost lose his footing completely. »I finally understand everything now! I’m finally able to see everything as it is! We should celebrate that and not talk about it!«

»And … How … What .. How exactly are things?«

»I love you, Oswald.« He could feel the other man melt right against him at these words. This really was all it took. This was what it took to melt the ice around the Penguin’s heart and piece it back together slowly after he had shattered it weeks ago. Would he be Oswald’s enemy, he would be able to use his heart against him oh so very easily. Oswald's fingers were trembling as he clutched the collar of his suit jacket, his lips were quivering as he looked down and his eyes watering as he shot him his most venomous look again, almost like on the day he had confessed to Ed, as Ed had been stupid enough to reject him with a look of utmost disgust on his face that had probably hit Oswald harder than anything else.

»If that is a ploy to weaken me, to destroy me, I swear to God, Nygma, I’ll kill you myself. I’ll rip you apart limb by limb. I-« He never got to finish his threat as Edward took it upon himself to conquer his lips again. This time the kiss was smoother than the first. This time he felt as if a part of himself was finally coming back down from this high he had been on, as if a part of himself was slowly coming back to reality.

He had killed Isabella. He thought that this realization, now, that he started to come back to his senses, should fill him with dread and horror, but it didn't. It had felt good. It still felt good. And feeling Oswald’s body press into his, alive and warm and not struggling against his hold, felt even better because there were no secrets between them. Oswald could see right through him and he always had. He was naked in front of him and so was Oswald. From the moment they first met in this snowy forest as he had been out to bury Kristen, they had been naked in front of each other with each weakness and each flaw and each scar no matter how deeply hidden clearly visible.

When he had seen Oswald out there, he had not seen a megalomaniac sociopath with a mommy-complex, but he had seen the boy who had been pushed around on the schoolyard one too many times, the boy who had lost everything and came back from the dead more powerful than ever, a boy who shared the same pain as he and who could understand what it meant to have a monster inside. He had embraced his own monster a long time ago. He became the thing he had hated the most and made it his own and now he would teach Edward how to do it.

Oswald was not the most experienced kisser and that only made it more endearing to Edward at this moment. Oswald was not Kristen and he was not Isabella. He was as different from them as it got and not because he was a man either but because of his uncertainty, because of his lack of experience, because he saw himself in the mirror and did not see the beautiful man that Edward tended to see. He only saw what others claimed to see. And yet he had been brave and courageous enough to confess his love to Edward, knowing that he could not win against Isabella. He wasn't a coward and he was willing to do what it took.

As he closed his hands around Oswald’s thin neck, he didn't squeeze, just kept his fingers on this milky-white skin and Oswald didn't struggle either, just moved his own hands up to lay on top of Edward's. The realization that Oswald trusted him enough not to strangle him hit him like a ton of bricks. But maybe it wasn't so much that Oswald trusted him not to do anything stupid but that Oswald would fight back and win if it ever came to this. He was not Kristen. He was not Isabella. He was not his mother. Oswald knew him. He had seen him. He knew what he was capable of and there was no illusion of safety between them and that made it all the more thrilling now as he drew him in deeper, his tongue lapping into the mouth of Gotham’s mayor, asking his dormant tongue for a dance and a fight for dominance in this little game they were playing.

Two hours ago he had killed Isabella and it had felt good and now he was here with Oswald, kissing him until he had to draw away for breath and it felt good. It felt good as he dropped his hands from Oswald’s neck. It felt good as Oswald brushed a strand of his hair behind his ear and took off his glasses without a word to place them on a side table inside his office without care. It felt good letting Oswald take over the lead as the smaller man grabbed his hand to lead him out of the room through the side door and then up the staircase. It felt good to let go of his restrictions and second thoughts and worries as they ended up in Oswald’s lavish bedroom and even as Oswald locked the door behind them. All of this was just right and, he assumed, all of this had been bound to happen anyway.

They had been drawn to each other from the beginning, like moths to a flame. Edward didn't trust himself to speak for the first time in his life as he stood in the middle of the room with Oswald directly in front of him, looking at him with those blue eyes that seemed always to look straight into his heart. Isabella had never looked at him like this. She had looked at his facade, never into his heart. She had not been interested in his heart, just in what she wanted to believe Edward was or could become. Suddenly, his mouth felt dry and yet he brushed off his suit jacket and let it drop to the floor, his tie following shortly after just like his shoes and socks. He could see how Oswald opened his mouth in protest, but Edward was quick to press one finger to Oswald's lips and only for a second too, before he started to work open the buttons of his shirt.

Oswald just stood there and stared, watching his every move but his eyes never leaving Edward’s, even as first his dress shirt, his undershirt and then his pants and boxer shorts dropped to the floor. Not once did Oswald steal a glance down his body. And although he had schooled his face into a calm expression, it didn't escape him how thickly he swallowed as soon as the last item of clothing fell to the ground, nor did he miss the red tint to the tips of Oswald’s ears and cheeks.

Not a word was spoken between them, not a touch stolen, as Edward stepped forward. He didn't bend down and Oswald didn't step back, as Edward pushed the suit jacket off Oswald’s narrow shoulders. He didn't protest as Edward unbuttoned his vest or loosened his tie to throw both to the ground. Nothing but silence reigned over the room, only disrupted by the crackling of the fire from the fireplace, as Edward worked the buttons of his shirt open and undressed Oswald, piece by piece, by piece. The only thing he had to do himself was to step out of his shoes and socks and as he had, they stood there naked in the shine of the fire, their eyes still locked. There was nothing between them anymore, no secrets, no facades, nothing, only them, naked.

In the shadows and the yellow tinted half-light of the room, the lines of Oswald’s sparse muscles stood out in a stark contrast to the rest of his thin body. He was certainly not a very muscular person but rather petite for a man, small and thin, though by no means physically weak, but none of that was new and none of that felt wrong, but rather begging for him to touch the skin that was usually hidden beneath layers and layers of fabric like underneath an armor. Edward knew that he wanted Oswald and he knew that Oswald wanted him, but it seemed that neither of them could comprehend the nature of it and what it entailed. The true meaning of their words and their stolen touches, always just out of reach. Suddenly, he was presented with everything he wanted and was thrown off-kilter by the fact, his mind always coming back to Isabella and that she was rotting in the trunk of his car while Oswald was watching him steadily.

»I killed her.« The words left his mouth without his permission. »Just like you said I would.« He could feel the pain that was lacing his voice even though he didn't wish for it to hurt like it did. It was the weaker part of his mind, the part who had hoped for normalcy in his life, who was slowly coming to terms with the reality as the fantasy was dying in his arms and maybe even feeling guilt over Isabella’s death. And it was Oswald who broke the distance between them as he put his hands on the back of his head and dragged him down. There was no kiss, not even the brush of lips, only Edward, resting his forehead against Oswald's shoulder and Oswald's fingers raking through his thick hair.

»I'm sorry that I was right.« He breathed and Edward could feel his warm breath on the side of his neck tingling softly.

»I'm not.« He replied as he surrendered to the impulse now that he lifted his head again. He cupped Oswald's jaw once more but this time not with the intent of leaving marks of any kind as he dipped in for another kiss, his fingers remaining on Oswald's jaw for a moment, before he let them drop on his shoulders and from there on his chest, tracing down the plane of Oswald's chest to the indentations of his stomach going concave under his touch. Even if Oswald would have wanted to, his body wasn't able to lie about any of this. »It had to come to this, I understand that now.« He whispered against Oswald’s lips before he took his hand into his this time and pulled Oswald along with him to the bed. None of this was how he had experienced it with either Kristen or Isabella and this was not about passion either, at least not foremost. This, right here, as he settled down on Oswald’s bed and pulled Oswald on top of him, was more intimate than he had ever experienced anything in his life. Once Oswald had settled into place, Ed’s head arched up to suck gently on the exposed skin at the hollow of Oswald’s throat, drawing a little moan from the smaller man that he had not known Oswald would be capable of making.

»I’m glad it happened.« Ed licked the words into the flesh in front of him. Oswald’s neck was as slender and white as Kristen’s. »I’m free now.« He managed to draw forth another groan from Oswald’s throat as he scraped over his collarbone with his teeth. »I’m yours.« It was like a spell had been broken at these words and this time it was Oswald who leaned upwards to steal a kiss from his mouth, their naked bodies flushed against each other and not leaving the chance to hide a thing from the other person.

There was not a scar on Oswald's body that he wouldn't be able to see or feel, not a bump in his skin that would stay hidden, no lies, no secrets no false promises of normalcy, just the two of them in their truest forms and that, to Edward, was the most arousing thing he had ever experienced.

He could sense that Oswald wanted to say something and that the young man didn't believe Edward's words because he didn't dare to believe them, so he would show him then. As he grabbed Oswald by the hips to turn them around in one swift motion, he did not allow protest and he did not immediately lay down on him as he gently nudged one leg between Oswald's, making them fall open for him, welcoming him as if this was what he had waited for, for such a long time now. His mouth was upon Oswald’s skin in a matter of mere seconds after this, the invitation too lewd coming from someone like Oswald, as to not to react to it as he felt his blood rush into his groin at the skin on skin contact, especially as he realized just how hard Oswald already was with his cock gently digging into Ed’s stomach at this point. He could feel every little detail about it, even the veins standing out from the silky skin against his stomach. Realizing that he had so much power and effect on another man, was almost even more thrilling than just touching him, the terror of the underworld.

The thought alone that no one would ever dare to touch Oswald in such a way made his blood boil. A whine rose up from Oswald’s throat as Ed’s lips moved lower and lower on his body, leaving bite marks along the way to show anyone who would ever dare to see Oswald naked, whom he belonged to, that thought alone entirely too thrilling to ignore.

»Ed-«

»Shh.« He placed a finger to Oswald's lips once more, his kisses trailing lower, across the hollow expanse of Oswald’s stomach to the sharp rise of his pelvis, his hands still settling on his hips as he was lacing the sensitive skin just above the line of pubic hair with kisses. He could see the way he was curling his toes in the sheets as his right hand came to a rest on the back of Edward’s head, grabbing onto his hair as if for dear life at that moment. Every brush of lips and every teasing swipe of his tongue seemed torture to Oswald, bringing him closer to the source of his longing but never quite close enough as he was making the most dreadful little sounds, always only interrupted by Edward’s own name leaving his mouth.

He had to admit that he had never felt more powerful than in this moment, right here, having the boss of the underworld, the king of Gotham, the mayor of this city, underneath him like this, his legs open in obvious surrender and begging for Edward's touch. Ed traced his tongue down the crease between his thigh and hip before slowly moving closer in on them, settling between Oswald's legs finally. The shift in movement earned him a hum of appreciation and as he let his eyes trail up Oswald's body to meet his eyes, he found them blinking slowly back at him, glossed over by lust, as Ed held open his legs. There was still this unspoken question in Oswald’s eyes, even at this moment, that fear that all of this was just a trick, that all of this was meant to make him lower down his guard so that Edward could stab him in the back. He didn't judge him for his paranoia, after all, Oswald had seen the real Edward. So, instead of giving him any chance for protest, Ed leaned down further and licked a broad stripe up Oswald's cock, from root to tip, drawing a startled cry from the smaller man that made his heart flutter in excitement.

Oswald was always wound so tight, always grasping for control. It was impossible to describe how good it felt to make him give up control for once especially now as Ed closed his lips around the head of his cock, easing back the foreskin and licked the slick sensitive skin. »Mmm« He hummed against the skin, enjoying the way it made Oswald flinch and writhe in his expensive sheets. He leaned back ever so slightly, wrapping one hand around Oswald's cock and let his tongue swipe over the tip just to draw more of these delicious sounds from his throat and grinned as he noticed how Oswald suppressed the urge to thrust his hips upwards, pulling on the sheets with one hand and on Ed’s hair with the other.

There was so much left unsaid between them, so much that he wanted to say to him at this moment but he knew that he would ruin the mood would he open his mouth to say what he had to say. It was only the weak part of his mind who wanted to say it anyway and the monster was all too glad to take over as he dug the fingers of his free hand into the skin of Oswald's thigh, scratching slightly before dragging his hand upwards and pushing his fingers against Oswald’s lips. Oswald seemed to understand all too well what he wanted as he drew them into his mouth, his tongue all too eager to lap at them, to coat them in spit as much as would be possible before Ed took them away again.

As he pushed the first finger in, Oswald didn't so much more as to breathe in sharply but he had always had a high tolerance for pain. Working him open was like solving a puzzle as he only had the keening sounds Oswald sometimes made to guide him and tell him if what he was doing was actually right and felt good for Oswald. As Edward's fingers found the prostate, Oswald's whole body was tensing, his back arching upwards in a heavy moan of which Ed was suddenly convinced that even Victor could hear it downstairs.»Fuck!« Oswald groaned out with not a care in the world for who might hear them in this big old house. And why should he? This was his kingdom, he was the king, and most people smart enough to cower in fear of him. To Ed, it was almost unbelievable that Oswald Cobblepot was willing to give him all the control in this situation and yet here they were while the monster was growling in satisfaction at the sight before him.

»That's the idea.« Edward hummed against the soft skin of Oswald’s throat before he sank his teeth into that thin neck of his, a flutter of arousal in his stomach as he noticed how Oswald curled his toes even further into the linens beneath him. Already Oswald was too far gone in pleasure at this time to answer.

He had always hated it so much how people used to look down on him but Oswald never did. Oswald had always looked at him as an equal even when Ed had been in Arkham and left with nothing. Even when he had stooped so low and broken his heart as cruelly as he did. He had done so much wrong and yet Oswald still allowed this right here to happen to him. Even as he withdrew his fingers and lined his own painfully hard cock up with his hole Oswald didn't protest. He, the kingpin of the underworld, the terror of Gotham, was pure in a way that Edward was unable to comprehend.

»Ed« The moan that tore from his throat was no protest but more of a plea for his lover to stop playing around. And Ed allowed Oswald to pull him upward at his hair again, allowed the hungry kiss as Oswald’s teeth caught his bottom lip and the sharp tug that followed. He did this to distract himself from the sensation as Ed slowly moved forward, easing his cock into the man beneath him, too slow for his own taste but possibly not slow enough for Oswald as he could feel him tense up again and again from the unfamiliar sensation.

Oswald's breathing hitched in his throat as Edward decided to distract him even more as he pulled on his bad leg and gently put it on his shoulder, making it easier for himself to slide between those sinful long legs and taking the strain from Oswald’s ankle as he had dug his heels into the mattress in desperation at Edward's ministrations. »What are you-« The kiss that Edward planted to Oswald’s right ankle made him forget whatever he had wanted to say, apparently while Oswald's eyes never left him, always eager to know exactly what his lover was doing to him, always eager to see it all for himself as if to make sure that it was all real.

His own eyes were shadowed with lust as he looked down on Oswald again, meeting those impossibly blue eyes. There was something utterly animalistic about the way Oswald looked at him as he was finally fully sheeted within him, about the way he writhed on the mattress or the shamelessness he portrayed as they were melting into each other, that he would have never expected Oswald being capable of. They fitted together perfectly like two puzzle pieces clicking together. The heel of Oswald's right foot that was always slightly turned outwards thanks to that horrific injury he once received, dug into his skin underneath his shoulder blade and Ed loved every second of it. He loved that Oswald was not gentle and delicate like Isabella or Kristen. He loved that strength that was radiating from the other man despite the submissive position he was in, as if he was still the one in charge, as if he was right where he wanted to be. He probably was, otherwise he would have fought him. One word of Oswald would suffice so that Victor would rip that door from its hinges and shoot his brains out.

Only as Oswald bucked against him, urging Edward to slide in even deeper, he allowed himself to finally let go of any restraints he still had. Edward leaned down even more, as much as their position allowed him to, stealing sloppy kisses from Oswald's panting mouth as his elbows dug into the mattress beside the smaller man’s head.

He slipped out of Oswald completely, before slamming back inside in a single thrust. Oswald moaned, suddenly on high alert as it seemed, letting his hand fall on Edward’s shoulder only to snake it into Edward’s tuft of brown hair, grabbing tightly, almost pulling at his hair, while Edward’s deep and fast thrusts were filling him in the most perfect way.

He did his best to hit his prostate with every movement and Oswald couldn't stop moaning even louder now, not ashamed in the slightest of his body’s reactions towards another man. Surely they would earn themselves some looks from Oswald’s employees around the house came tomorrow but Edward couldn't care less. Somehow Edward managed to snake a hand between their impossible close bodies, getting a hold of Oswald’s cock that was pressing into his stomach to jerk it in rhythm with his thrusts, and Oswald screamed his approval. As Oswald threw his head back on the pillow and bared his throat at Edward, it was almost impossible to resist him any further. Their next kiss was wet and messy, mostly because of the pace Edward was keeping, and because of the moans leaving both their mouths. It was mostly tongue and teeth, their lips wet with saliva, but it was perfect and Edward wouldn't want it any other way as he saw the beast inside the other man for the first time that seemed too similar to the monster lurking beneath the surface of his own mind.

No matter how Oswald liked to portray himself to the others around him, this, right here, this was the real Oswald - without restraints, without shame, without the fancy and often borderline flamboyant attitude or his armor of multi-layered expensive suits.

As Oswald’s panting grew even heavier, he knew that he was close. There was no need for words because Edward could feel it in the way his body tensed around him already. Edward’s thrusts were more erratic now, and his own voice broke as he moaned louder than before. It was quite the sight to see Oswald Cobblepot find pleasure and reach climax and Edward Nygma tried to memorize every second of it. He loved everything about it. The way Oswald’s most primal instinct was to thrust into Edward’s hand just as it was his to keep thrusting fast and hold himself deep inside his lover as he was coming, leaving no space between their bodies, the utter bliss on his face, or how he screwed his eyes shut and curled his toes almost painfully. He loved how his body was shaking as Edward came inside him with not a care in the world for protection or anything else that lay in the realm of decency.

It took them a lot longer to untangle their limbs afterward but when they did, all they could do was fall down on the mattress in Oswald’s bed side by side, panting and not regretting this one bit while the thunderstorm outside had finally reached the mansion and was raging with a ferocity that almost made Edward grin a little. He could only hope that Victor had followed them upstairs and heard everything. He could only hope that the assassin now knew that he had claimed the mayor as his own, not so much out of jealousy but out of spite, perhaps. He wanted the entire world to know that Oswald was his, not because he wanted Oswald’s power to himself, but because it meant he had power of his own, power over one of the most dangerous people in this city.

»It felt good to kill her.« Edward came back to Isabella after minutes of pure silence that had been stretching out endlessly between him and Oswald as they had been lying here, with not a care in the world for the mess they've made or to name that thing between them. Finally, Edward was able to let loose of what had been on his mind this entire time and he could feel Oswald tense beside him, which only prompted him to roll on his side, cushioning his head on his right arm and pulling Oswald closer with his left as another lightning bolt ripped the dark sky outside in half and cast just the tiniest bit of light on Oswald's surprised face for a second. »We had a fight.« He explained quietly as his left hand found it's way from Oswald's waist to his hip, onto his outer thigh and down to his knee, Oswald's eyes never leaving his as if these touches were already familiar, as if they had done this a thousand times. »She argued with me that I should leave Gotham with her.« The hand on Oswald's knee gently pulled and forced Oswald's leg up a bit until he was able to sneak his own left leg between Oswald's. It seemed he could never be close enough now as he enjoyed the weight of Oswald's bad leg resting on his own, his hand stroking down his calve as far as he could reach. »She was obsessed with the idea that staying in Gotham would be dangerous for us both. She was convinced, after I send you to her to break up with her this one time, that you would send your goons to kill her.«

»I wanted to.« Oswald quietly admitted. »I was so jealous and … heartbroken … and when she looked me in the eyes and outright told me that she would fight to keep you, that she knew that I loved you, I wanted to send Zsasz after her, or someone else, make it look like an accident.«

»I know.« Edward found himself sighing. »But you didn't. And you were right. You were right that I would kill her.«

»Ed … I-«

»No … It's okay.« He breathed as he felt Oswald’s hand on his cheek now and leaned his forehead to rest against Oswald's. »It's okay. Deep down I knew you were right. It was inevitable just as it was with Miss Kringle. It's my nature, it's that part of me that I cannot keep hidden long term. Isabella started to see the cracks in the facade and she was adamant that this wasn't me, that I wasn't like that, that I was a good man, that I would never hurt her. She was wrong.« He paused for a second as the weaker part of his mind was wailing in the back of his skull for this woman again. »I thought I loved her, Oswald. And when I killed her, I was … broken. But I realized that what I loved about her was the same thing she loved about me and that was a fantasy of normalcy, a future in some nice neighborhood, the perfect normal couple with the perfect 2.5 children. I thought that this was what I wanted from life but then the cracks started showing and there was no way back because this what we had, Isabella and I, was never real, to begin with. She fell in love with a man that doesn't even exist. And when I killed her, it felt good … I felt free. For the first time in a long while, I felt free again and I didn't even realize how restricted I felt before. It was Miss Kringle who allowed me to see myself for who I truly was for the first time and I was grateful for this gift she gave me then, but after Arkham, I seemed to have lost myself again in the illusion of false promises and work. And then came Isabella and I believed that all of this might have just been a bad dream, that I could go back to be Ed Nygma, a normal man, ignore the monster inside of me - but this was a lie.«

»Ed … I didn't know that you-«

»And when I sat there, beside her dead body all I could think about was you and how you always saw me for who I truly was. You never saw me as something I was not. You always saw the true Ed Nygma in me, the monster that I was deep down inside and you never faltered, never turned away. You loved me for who I was, the real me and not some illusion of something I will never be.« Oswald's face was unreadable as he stared at him with these electric blue eyes in the sine of another lightning bolt that came crashing from the sky. He couldn't tell what he was thinking, couldn't say if he might be abhorred by Edward's words, perhaps. It was impossible to say if he felt uneasy now after Edward's confession but as their lips met again and as he felt himself melting against Oswald, he had a feeling that the monster inside of him was finally at peace.

»We will have to find a nice spot to bury her body tomorrow.« Oswald whispered against his lips as he pulled away for the briefest moment, his hand never leaving Edward's cheek as they lay like this, entangled unbearably close and still not close enough. It was wicked, the way they were talking about Isabella. It was perverse, as if she had not been a real human being, the daughter of someone, just some _thing_ that could be buried in the backyard like a dead animal. They were truly depraved. Yet, the way Oswald looked at him felt as if he was his entire world and for once in his life someone saw him, the real Edward and that felt incredibly good.

 

**-End-**


End file.
